


at least get a taste

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Face Slapping, M/M, Non-Negotiated Kink, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reason Murphy is here, in this establishment, is his mother. She drank and drank, until there was no more scrip left to pay for it, and then she continued to drink.</p>
<p>And then she died and left him with her debt. It isn't fair, but Murphy knows nothing in this world is ever fair. So Murphy works. He sells the only thing he's got left.</p>
<p>And he doesn't hate it.  (<i>Defiance</i> AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	at least get a taste

**Author's Note:**

> So I just watched s1 of Defiance, and then. My fingers slipped and this happened. There could be more of this. With actual plot.

Murphy's just finished with a Castithan (who had fucked him twice and hadn't let him come either time -- Murphy is not a fan of Castithans) when Mbege comes in.

Murphy would never admit it, but Mbege is his favourite customer. He's always freshly showered, not a trace of the mines on him. He nearly always just wants Murphy to ride him, but sometimes he'll press Murphy face down and give it to him hard. He's always vaguely apologetic about it afterwards, no matter how many times Murphy tells him it's good.

Not bothering to hide his smile, Murphy slides into the seat beside Mbege. The new bartender slides a glass of water in front of him and Murphy nods his thanks. She'd picked up pretty quickly that he never drank while working.

"Been a little while." Murphy offers, leaning in into Mbege's space. Mbege grins, teeth always such a surprising white.

"Been saving up." He says. Murphy grins back.

— - - 

200 scrip, so Murphy is Mbege's for the rest of night. A good six hours. Mbege always starts things off with kissing, so it's no surprise that's where they start now.

Mbege fits his hands to Murphy's hips and tugs him in close. Murphy goes easy. Gets one hand around Mbege's jaw and pulls him in. Kissing is nice; kissing Mbege is more than nice. He's got a great mouth. And he's got a liking for tugging at Murphy's top lip in a way that makes Murphy a little weak at the knees.

Kissing's all well and good, but it doesn't take long until Mbege's rocking against him, hands sliding around to Murphy's ass.

Murphy steers them over to the bed and pushes Mbege down in a move he's had a lot of practice at. Instead of ending up in Mbege's lap like usual, Murphy finds himself deposited on his back, Mbege leaning over him.

"I wanna try something." Mbege says. Murphy raises an eyebrow. "Something good, I promise."

Murphy lets himself go boneless against the mattress. "Oh, well, if it's something good." He makes sure to sound just sarcastic enough - some clients have had problems with his sense of humour.

Mbege laughs, dark and rich, and kneels between Murphy's spread legs. 

"Oh." Murphy shivers. Mbege laughs again, nice-like, and goes back to sucking Murphy's dick.

It's not— Murphy hasn't had a lot of people willing to do this. He holds himself still. His thighs tremble a little at the strain, but he manages to keep the rest of himself loose and slack. Tension might suggest that Murphy doesn't want this, that Mbege should stop. And wow, Murphy definitely does not want Mbege to stop.

Mbege lifts his head up enough to say "You can come, if you want."

Murphy wants. He's been on edge all night. He knows it'll leave him a little over sensitive when Mbege fucks him, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. He closes his eyes and lets Mbege's talented mouth push him over the edge. 

"That was good." Murphy says when Mbege pulls off and pushes himself up so they're face to face. Mbege grins, clearly proud of himself, and kisses Murphy.

Murphy can't hold back his moan at the taste of himself on Mbege's tongue. Mbege moves a little more frantically at the sound. He knows where the slick is, and Murphy knows that Mbege loves doing this part, so he continues to lie there and let Mbege do all the work.

There's a reason Mbege's his favourite client, after all.

Clearly sucking dick does something for Mbege, because he doesn't waste time, just slides two fingers straight in. This is probably Murphy's favourite part of the night - Mbege gets such a look of concentration on his face, like he's solving a complex puzzle rather than getting Murphy ready to take his dick. If Murphy were more sentimental, he'd say it was like Mbege actually cared about him, cared about hurting him.

Mbege fingers him for so long Murphy starts to wonder if Mbege's hand is going to cramp. He's enjoying it, sure, but "Come on already." He huffs out. Mbege bits at his chin and pulls his fingers free.

Murphy gets his leg up around Mbege's waist and flips them over. Now Mbege's the one flat on his back, and Murphy up on his knees. Mbege gets his hands on Murphy's waist, sturdy and steady, and helps lower Murphy down.

Mbege has a nice dick, thick and decently long, so Murphy doesn't have to fake anything. The moan he lets out is genuine, and he knows Mbege is always a fan of hearing his pleasure. So he doesn't hold back, and is rewarded by Mbege thrusting up harder and harder, until Murphy has to lean over and brace himself on the headboard.

He's hard again, but ignores it. The touch of Mbege's hand to his dick is a shock; he jerks and tightens. Mbege moans like it's been punched out of him and comes  
.  
He keeps Murphy in his lap and continues to stroke him. Murphy drops one of his hands from the headboard and wraps it around Mbege's. Mbege tangles their fingers together. Murphy comes all over Mbege's chest and slides off his lap to collapse on the mattress beside him.

A quick clean up with a damp cloth and then Mbege pulls Murphy back down onto the bed. They trade lazy kisses between Mbege falling asleep and jerking back to awake for the rest of the time he paid for.

Murphy walks him out the next morning and slides half the notes into Mbege's back pocket. Mbege kisses him like a solder going off to war, Raven catcalling from behind the bar.

— - - 

The reason Murphy is here, in this establishment, is his mother. She drank and drank, until there was no more scrip left to pay for it, and then she continued to drink.

And then she died and left him with her debt. It isn't fair, but Murphy knows nothing in this world is ever fair. So Murphy works. He sells the only thing he's got left.

And he doesn't hate it.

\- - - 

The E-Rep guy walks into the Ark like he owns it. He's just a grunt - no fancy suit or anything to mark him as a man of power and position, but still. There's something about him that's oddly compelling.

Murphy isn't the only one who thinks so. Octavia makes a beeline for the guy. Small wonder - he looks clean and well-fed. He's definitely got some spare scrip to go around. Plus, he's not too hard on the eyes, and god knows it's been a while since someone new arrived in this town.

Murphy leans back against the bar and watches. Raven leans her elbows on the bar and watches with him.

"Bellamy!" So Octavia knows this guy, then. Very well, if the way she throws herself at him is any indication. Murphy exchanges glances with Raven, eyebrows raised. 

Lexa sweeps downstairs, the blonde doctor following in her wake like usual. Octavia hasn't noticed - she and the new guy have their foreheads pressed together and he's speaking in a low tone, words tripping over themselves in an effort to get out.

"Welcome to the Ark." Lexa says, standing next to the pair. She smiles, but there's a hint of hardness. This is the sort of scene that is avoided at the Ark - emotions aren't really what they're trying to sell. 

"Sorry!" Octavia says quickly, disentangling herself. "Lexa, this is my brother, Bellamy."

Raven snorts. "Brother." Murphy's inclined to agree - this situation looks much less exciting now that he knows Lincoln isn't going to come in here and challenge the guy to a fight for daring to pay for Octavia. Honestly, Murphy's not even sure why Lincoln doesn't just pay out Octavia's contract already. Just privately to himself, Murphy can admit he's fiercely jealous.

A miner, vaguely clean, looms over him. Murphy gets back to work.

— - -

The Earth Republic guy, Octavia's brother, comes back the next night.

"Octavia's not here." Murphy tells him, after the guy comes and stands at the bar, looking all around. "She's making a house call."

That gets a jaw clench. "When will she be back?" The guy (Bellamy, Murphy reminds himself) asks. He turns slightly to look at Murphy.

"Tomorrow." Murphy answers. Bellamy taps his fingers on the bar. "Probably in the morning."

Bellamt nods. Turns to face Murphy fully. Murphy resist the compulsion to adjust his position, put himself on display. This guy isn't here for that.

"Hm." Bellamy waves Raven off when she steps towards him. He gives Murphy a slow once-over. "You'll do."

"What?" Murphy asks. 

"How much till morning?" Bellamy looks him straight in the face.

Murphy downs the rest of his drink (alcohol, because he's already had three clients tonight and wasn't planning on any more) and says as boldly as he can manage. "1000."

The guy nods and says, easy as can be: "Done."

\- - -

Bellamy sits down on the bed and takes a good look around the room. The window has been left open, in an attempt to get any of the cool night breeze into the room, which gets uncomfortably warm during the day. He's on the second floor, so Murphy's not worried about anyone seeing in but it looks like this guy might be.

Murphy takes a seat next to him, leans back on one hand. "Got anything in particular in mind?" He asks. He's not too worried - this guy looks like the sort who'd be into a basic fuck, maybe with Murphy on his front so the guy can close his eyes and pretend he's somewhere else, with someone else. Murphy gets a lot of those.

When Bellamy speaks, it's with an edge of authority that makes Murphy shiver. "I'm gonna fuck you. But first, I want you to strip."

Murphy pushes himself up off the bed and stands in front of Bellamy. "Any particular style?" 

Bellamy stares at him and waits.

Murphy bites his lip. The shirt first then, already sliding off one shoulder. He grabs the hem and pulls it up, his arms crossed over. It's loose enough that it doesn't muss up the neat braids in his hair. The Irathient he'd had before had spent more time doing that than anything else.

Pants next, since Murphy isn't wearing a whole lot more. Those are a little harder to get off. They're tight and stick to his skin, but the leather never fails to get him clients. He does his best to push them down in a seductive manner.

Bellamy's expression doesn't change. When Murphy stands before him completely unclothed, Bellamy spreads his legs and says- no, _orders_ Murphy to "suck me off."

Murphy drops to his knees before he even realises he's doing it. He places his hands on Bellamy's thighs, only to get them knocked off. "Hands behind your back."

Murphy will admit: sucking dick is not his greatest talent. His clients for the most part want to use his ass, not his mouth. Still, for some reason he wants to make this good for Bellamy. He doesn't examine that desire too closely. 

Bellamy's eyes are laser-focussed as Murphy drops his head and takes Bellamy into his mouth. One hand comes around to grip Murphy on the back of the neck.   
Bellamy is not shy. He shoves his hips up and it takes all Murphy's willpower not to gag. His eyes water but he keeps going. Bellamy digs his fingers into Murphy's neck. He's messing up Murphy's rhythm, pulling him forwards and backwards in odd jerks.

It takes Murphy a long moment to figure out Bellamy's doing it on purpose. Trying to make him mess up.

Murphy narrows his eyes and really applies himself. He pulls out all the tricks he's been taught, and sure enough, Bellamy's hips are stuttering and his grip on Murphy's neck tightens to the point where Murphy knows he's going to have bruises.

Murphy swallows. He rocks back onto his heels, hands still behind his back, and waits. Surely that's not all Bellamy wants.

It isn't. "Up here." Bellamy taps his thighs, like Murphy couldn't have figured that out himself. He slides into Bellamy's lap, knees pressing into the mattress either side of Bellamy's hips. The material of his uniform pants is scratchy against the soft skin of Murphy's inner thighs. Bellamy hasn't made a move to tuck himself away - his dick is on display, shiny with Murphy's spit.

Bellamy hands Murphy the slick. Murphy starts - he hadn't seen Bellamy go anywhere near the drawer. Bellamy smirks like he knows exactly what's going through Murphy's mind.

"Get yourself ready." Bellamy leans back on his hands. He looks almost bored. 

Murphy barely refrains from scowling. He's never had a client so seemingly uninterested in the proceedings. It's off-putting.

Murphy gets his fingers decently slick and drops the tube. He raises himself up off Bellamy's lap and leaves his dry hand on his own thigh. It'd be easier if he could brace himself against Bellamy, but Murphy doesn't think that would go down too well. Bellamy doesn't seem the type to welcome touch uninvited. 

One finger, two fingers, and Murphy's starting to tune out a little. He's rocking down against his own hand, almost mindlessly, when Bellamy says sharply, "Stop."

Murphy slows the roll of his hips but doesn't come to a total stop.

Bellamy slaps him. Murphy's head snaps to the side and he's suddenly painfully aware of how hard he is. When he turns back to face Bellamy, he can see the pleased look on Bellamy's face. "There you are." Bellamy almost croons. Murphy bites the inside of his cheek.

"Down on your stomach." Bellamy orders. Murphy scrambles up off Bellamy's lap and onto the bed. He turns his face sideways on the pillow, slapped cheek exposed, to keep Bellamy in his view.

That turns out to be a good decision, because Bellamy stands up and strips of his shirt in one smooth motion. The Earth Republic must be hard work - he's all sleek muscle and scars.

Bellamy keeps his boots and his pants on. He pushes them down just enough so he can get a hand around his dick, working himself to full hardness. Murphy's hands twitch where they're pinned underneath him.

"I'm going to fuck you now." Bellamy says, kneeling at the end of the bed. Murphy breathes out harshly and nods when Bellamy doesn't make any further movements.  
Bellamy gets a hand around his ankles and spreads Murphy wide. Murphy presses his face fully into the pillow. He waits. 

Bellamy doesn't waste time. Once Murphy's made enough room for Bellamy to settle between his legs, Bellamy pushes in, one steady motion until he's pressed fully aginst Murphy, chest and thighs. He reaches down and pulls Murphy's hips up and up, until Murphy gets his knees underneath him. It's uncomfortable, pressing his face further into the pillow. Murphy gets his hands and rests on his elbows. Bellamy stops moving and orders "hands behind your back." 

Murphy can't help the muffled sob but he does as he's told. Bellamy keeps one hand on Murphy's hip, fingers pressing in tight on the sharp bone, and holds Murphy's hands together with the other. It sets an ache in his shoulders almost immediately. 

Bellamy fucks him hard enough that Murphy slides up the bed a little more with each thrust. He doesn't realise this until his head connects with the headboard with a dull thunk. 

"Sorry." Bellamy says, and hauls him back down the bed. He sounds a little bit winded. Murphy can't help but feel a little smug. This guy is finally losing his perfect composure. 

Murphy loses track of time. His entire focus narrows to the pain in his arms, the way he can't breathe properly with his face pressed into the pillow, the way Bellamy draws almost all the way out before slamming in again. So it's a total shock when Bellamy does it again and Murphy chokes out a cry and comes untouched.

Bellamy freezes. Murphy gasps for air.

"Did I say you could come?" Bellamy's voice is dark and stern. Murphy can't help the full-bodied shiver at the words. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't—-" Murphy hates that he sounds so nervous.

"Shut up." Bellamy cuts him off. "You're going to pay for that later." He pulls at Murphy's arms until they meet, elbow to wrist in the middle of his back. Murphy's shoulders are screaming at him.

Bellamy rolls his hips and picks up his punishing rhythm again.

\- - -

Bellamy comes. He bites down hard enough on Murphy's shoulder to draw blood, and Murphy shudders all over. Bellamy pulls out and slides his fingers right back in. Murphy muffles his surprised yelp into the pillow, but he knows Bellamy heard it, given the chuckle and twist of his fingers.

"I didn't pay a thousand scrip for one fuck and a blowjob." He says, sounding for all the world like he's talking about the weather. "Besides, there's still the matter of your earlier disobedience."

Murphy involuntarily clenches around Bellamy's fingers. There's sweat on his face and the small of his back, and he's exhausted. His arms have given up and are slowly going numb. Yet the promise held by Bellamy's voice has him hard, has him rolling his hip down in search of more.

Bellamy licks at the bite mark of Murphy's shoulder and grins.


End file.
